


Painfully and With Wonder

by stellahibernis



Series: Living Instead of Just Surviving [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Introspection, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), finding something good and settling into it, mentions of /others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: Bucky starts to think about what other things he wants in life beyond work, starts to think what kind of a person he wants to be. On his commute from Brooklyn to the Tower to back again he keeps to his habit of looking at the people, but not only to assess threats. Instead, he keeps watching all the ways people live their lives, and starts to think how he wants to live now that he doesn’t have to make sure he’s just as effectively blended in as he can with one metal arm.


  After he moves out Steve every once in a while asks about his renovating progress and if he needs help. Bucky always declines, because quite frankly Steve looks exhausted and if he has time away from work he should probably spend it sleeping. He always tells Steve he can manage, because he can and he does.


  After a while Steve stops asking, and it is only then that Bucky realizes he should have taken Steve up on the offer. It would have eased Steve into coming over, and when it doesn’t happen from the start, Bucky doesn’t know how to ask him later.

***
Bucky builds a good if not perfect life for himself, and settles into it. Then he ends up getting everything he never even dared to want.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion to [Learning to Make Fire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8290063), and timewise partly overlaps it, but doesn't have all the same scenes. It still should work as a stand alone, even if you do get more if you read both, since this is all from Bucky's perspective, and the other one is from Steve's.

 

Bucky blinks his eyes open just before two at night, and the first thing that registers is the heavy arm draped over him. He tenses and starts to move away before the full consciousness arrives and makes him slump back against the pillow. Next to him Steve shifts, still completely asleep, and pulls Bucky closer so that his face is tucked in the hollow between Bucky’s shoulder and neck.

Bucky lays his hand on Steve’s now resting on his sternum, counts the breaths against his neck, and closes his eyes, still finding it hard to believe this is the reality and not a dream.

This is new; getting to sleep pressed against Steve’s naked body. So new, that they still measure time from the start in days rather than weeks, that the amount of discoveries on how to touch each other still larger in their future than in the past. It’s new, and Bucky still wakes up sometimes when Steve moves since he’s not yet used to it. Sometimes his brain still wants to revert to the familiar pattern of putting distance for a second after awakening.

Simply waking up with someone isn’t all that unusual to Bucky these days. There are the missions, when there usually is only a little sleeping space, and they end up falling asleep wherever they can, with whoever happens to have room next to them. It’s familiar all the way from the war, the different kind of physical boundaries between people one goes to battle with.

And then there’s home, and the city. He used to bring people over whenever he felt like it. If he ended up in someone else’s apartment, he never stayed the night, but he’s never kicked anyone out of his bed before the morning. He never encouraged anyone to stay either, but truth is, a lot of time they ended up being so spent that they couldn’t move. Bucky doesn’t deny he’s fairly proud of that, actually. On those nights Bucky mostly dozed instead of truly sleeping, and if the other person got clingy while asleep, he gently rolled them back.

It’s all different now, despite the fact that his brain hasn’t quite settled into the new pattern of his life. Now he fully plans to never wake up next to anyone but Steve if he’s at home. On a mission things probably won’t change that much. Usually Steve sleeps way less than any of them, even less than Bucky who generally has a hard time to convince himself to sleep when it’s not safe, regardless of who is watching over him. If it happens to be safe and they end up sleeping at the same time, odds are they’re next to each other. If it’s not safe, if their safety is even slightly dubious, Bucky doesn’t sleep if Steve does. Ever.

But now it’s not a mission; they’re at Bucky’s apartment that he’s tentatively started calling home, and Steve is draped around him. Bucky wants to sleep like this every night. He wants to wake up to this, be it in the morning or in the middle of the night like now. And if he can’t sleep on the nights when the shadows inside his head are too dark, he wants to be awake with Steve next to him.

He wants this, and he has it, and if he knows anything anymore he knows Steve. And what he knows about Steve is that when he chooses something he sticks to it. It means Bucky can have this, for as long as he wants, and he’s going to make damn sure to try and be worth it.

He turns toward Steve, fits their bodies closer together, buries his nose in Steve’s hair and drifts off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Bucky is declared not guilty, not responsible for his actions while he was HYDRA’s prisoner, it doesn’t really change how he himself feels about it. He never thought it would either, because as he is now, he doesn’t really care what the world around him thinks. It doesn’t have the power to change his opinion of himself. It does matter, though, because it means he isn’t hunted by the whole world. Only about a half, since he knows HYDRA would love to get him back, even now that the conditioning is broken.

Deciding to join the newly reconfigured Avengers lead by Steve is an easy choice. It is partly self-preservation; he knows that a large part of the general public is dubious about him, and him being with the team where they can see him will probably make them trust him more than they would if he was to just disappear and live under radar. There’s also the fact that despite the official pardon, he still feels like there’s blood in his hands, and there’s no way really to make amends for it. That’s not how it works; the people he killed will not come back to life. However, he can use the skills he was given for good, for protecting instead of destroying, rather than denying them or trying to forget.

He can never let himself forget.

Being an Avenger also means he can be there when Steve goes into action, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. It would be his worst nightmare, to live somewhere as a civilian and watch on TV Steve battle whatever danger of the day, unable to do anything about it. That’s not something he can let happen.

There’s also the fact that while he doesn’t really care what the world at large thinks about him, he does care what Steve thinks. He always has, every second of his life that he’s known his own wants. It’s still hard for him to believe that Steve, implicitly and completely, trusts Bucky to have his back.

So he becomes an Avenger, and he trains, he gets to know the rest of them properly, he gets used to the procedures and he waits for the next crisis to happen. After all that’s what they are for.

Quite often they’re still making things up as they go, except it’s not just them, it’s also the UN and the new Superhuman Committee that’s responsible for overseeing the procedures while the Accords are being amended, and probably will continue to do so after the procedure is made official. This time there are enhanced humans working on the policies, as well as acting as members of the Committee, which means it has a chance to actually work out. 

Steve, as the leader of the Avengers, is working on the amendments too, bringing the proposed policies to the team, forwarding their comments and questions. And he does it all in addition to leading them with their training regime and intelligence gathering, which means that work is pretty much the only thing he does these days.

Bucky can’t help but worry when he thinks about Steve. It feels like his friend is getting lost in the work and the missions and trying to make the world a better place. They’re all good things to do, but superhuman or not, one can’t live like that. There has to be something else, something that doesn’t belong to the whole world, and Bucky’s not sure if Steve has that now. 

He also doesn’t know how to bring it up either, or even if it is his place.

***

Most of the Avengers live at least semi-permanently at the Tower. Bucky could too, but he decides it’s not for him. He has chosen to fight when they’re needed, but he knows that if he stays there, it’ll easily become all he lives for. Some people may be able to live like that, but not him, not when fighting still calls a shadow of the Winter Soldier to move his body, to take the shots that should be impossible. 

He uses that shadow when he needs to, but he knows he can’t give it any more leeway than he absolutely has to. He has too many dangerous instincts, and the only way to keep them in check is to remind himself that there are other things in life too.

He finds an apartment for himself in Brooklyn, south from Prospect Park. It’s on the top floor with an easy access to the roof. It’s a bit on the shabby side at a glance, but that’s just the surface, everything is solid and will be fine with just a bit of work. He knows something about renovating, looks up information on what he doesn’t know, and relies on his patience and skill with his hands. He always was good at this sort of thing, building and fixing things.

He works on one room at a time, kitchen and bathroom first, and he sleeps among his tools on a mattress in the corner of what will become the living room before the bedroom is ready. It’s okay, he’s used to not having a lot of things, even after his short stay in Wakanda where they wanted for nothing. The work is soothing, balancing with his other work as an Avenger, and as he gets along, he starts to allow himself to think about what he wants in his apartment beyond the basic necessities.

He also starts to think about what other things he wants in life beyond work, starts to think what kind of a person he wants to be. On his commute from Brooklyn to the Tower to back again he keeps to his habit of looking at the people, but not only to assess threats. Instead, he keeps watching all the ways people live their lives, and starts to think how he wants to live now that he doesn’t have to make sure he’s just as effectively blended in as he can with one metal arm.

After he moves out Steve every once in a while asks about his renovating progress and if he needs help. Bucky always declines, because quite frankly Steve looks exhausted and if he has time away from work he should probably spend it sleeping. He always tells Steve he can manage, because he can and he does.

After a while Steve stops asking, and it is only then that Bucky realizes he should have taken Steve up on the offer. It would have eased Steve into coming over, and when it doesn’t happen from the start, Bucky doesn’t know how to ask him later. 

It’s ridiculous; it should be the easiest thing in the world to say, “Come over, let’s have some beers and I’ll show you the cool kitchen cabinets I made.” Something like that. But Steve is always busy, always with more paperwork to do, and the words get stuck in Bucky’s throat.

And Steve has stopped asking, Bucky reminds himself, and he can’t quite shake the fear that it was because Steve doesn’t really want to come, doesn’t want to see the life Bucky is piecing together for himself outside of being an Avenger.

There is a part of him that always tells him that those thoughts are ridiculous as well, but he has a hard time believing that too. It feels like the inside of his head is one big recursive loop from hell sometimes.

He’s mostly done with his apartment, all that needs building or fixing is done but he’s still lacking some furniture, when he happens upon a yard sale on one spring day. He stops to look at things, vaguely thinking there just might be a lamp for the hall in there somewhere, when his eyes land on something else. It takes him a moment to believe he’s really seeing what he thinks he is, because it’s a real throwback.

It’s a Harley, and not just any Harley but exactly like the one Steve had during the war. It’s in a fairly terrible condition, and definitely won’t run without some pretty major work done, but Bucky doesn’t hesitate a second before buying it. 

By the end of the day he also has rented a space in a garage that hosts a group of people fixing classic cars. It’s near his apartment too, and everyone seems to be happy to offer their advice and lend their tools.

***

There’s a mission for the Avengers, officially Bucky’s first. It’s sort of boring and mundane actually, as much as anything the Avengers handle is boring and mundane. But it’s not aliens, it’s not killer robots or enhanced people. It’s HYDRA, and not even with any world ending plan, just that one of their hideouts has been discovered. They get into the area, they do the final recon, Steve all in the Captain mode gives their orders, and they take the HYDRA agents down. It takes less than a day.

Bucky can’t deny he feels a sense of satisfaction about shooting a guy that was heading for Steve and Steve grinning at him later, not even having tried to defend himself and busying himself with all the others coming at him. He’d trusted Bucky to handle it. Bucky doesn’t know if he wants to berate Steve, because that kind of trust in battle will one day get you killed or if he wants to curl into the warmth of it all.

Right then, with the gun in his hand and decked in tactical gear, he’s more inclined toward the scolding, but as time passes he knows the show of trust is what will stand out. He still isn’t sure whether he should be trusted, can’t always find it in himself, and it means everything that Steve does.

They’ve barely touched down before everyone has agreed that they’re going out to celebrate. Steve isn’t coming; he has to be on video conference with the Committee, to go over the mission and everyone’s performance. They’re still working to find balance, between the Avengers and the Committee, and it means Steve is having a lot of meetings. Steve says that they’re probably reaching the point where the procedure is lightened, and that the written reports will be enough when everything goes well. They’re all still careful, and Bucky doesn’t really blame them.

Steve is starting to look worn around the edges, in a way that Bucky only remembers from the most hectic days of the war, and he hopes it gets easier soon.

“Oh and Tony, you’re coming with me today,” Steve says as everyone starts heading for their quarters, and continues when Tony opens his mouth to protest, “We debuted the battle tracking system, you need to be there to give a report on how it functioned.”

“Of course it worked, I made it after all,” Tony says, although Bucky kind of thinks that after Ultron Tony shouldn’t be quite so dismissive. He doesn’t say anything, because even if they’ve made peace with each other, Bucky doesn’t yet feel at ease with the idea of riling Tony up.

“Well, the Committee likes to be thorough, so you need to be there, since an old man like me can’t be expected to understand tech like that.” That last one comes out completely deadpan serene, and Tony just shakes his head at Steve, since everyone knows Steve is the one that uses the tracking system most, for guiding the team and revising tactics on the fly whenever it’s needed. Tony’s definitely hiding a smile though, and Bucky is again relieved that Steve and Tony have managed to build their friendship back up.

It’s just him and Steve in the elevator down from their mission rooms at the top of the Tower. Steve’s trip only takes a few seconds down to his floor. 

“Are you coming after you finish with the Committee?” Bucky asks, and Steve shrugs.

“Probably not. It’ll be a few hours at least, and I kind of already want to fall in my bed and pass out.”

“That might be a good idea, you’re starting to look like someone managed a good punch on both your eyes, and I don’t think that’s going to make you very credible as a superhero.”

“You’re an ass,” Steve says, but smiles and runs his hand through his hair, making it stick every which way. He’s got a smudge of something black on his cheek. “See you day after tomorrow at the review.”

Steve moves away from the doors letting them close, and Bucky is alone.

***

Back at his apartment Bucky puts his weapons away, takes a shower and then hesitates between two shirts, long sleeves and short. He ends up taking the one with short sleeves, since he’s done hiding.

The bar is like any busy bar ever, noisy and full of people. He’s still a bit on the edge, the Soldier that he digs out from inside himself to be able to fight still lingering, but it’s fading. It’s not the first time he’s used a crowded and noisy place for the same purpose. Somehow it works, makes him focus on what is going on around him and not what he’s been doing and what it all means.

He’s idly talking with Natalia, leaning on a table that has a cluster of shot glasses on it. He’s been drinking with her, two shots to every one of hers, and he doesn’t feel anything. If he really tried, he would be able to get just a bit drunk, but wouldn’t probably even reach the legal limit to drive a car. Still, he enjoys the burn of vodka down his throat, one of the few Russian things that doesn’t feel bitter these days.

Wanda breezes to them and declares, grinning at Bucky, “The guy in the corner, green shirt, is totally considering asking you to go home with him.”

Bucky hasn’t been paying too much attention but he looks now, and true enough, the man is staring at him with a clear intent in his eyes. Bucky lets his gaze linger, not looking away. The man has his dark hair tousled in a way that’s meant to look carefree and probably took a fair amount of time to do, and jeans fitting tight around his slim legs.

“I might take him up on it,” Bucky says, ignoring the sharp look Natalia gives him.

Wanda just laughs. “Get it,” she says, high fives Bucky and is gone the next moment, in a flurry of dark hair and red skirt.

Bucky keeps looking at the man, and asks Natalia who still hasn’t spoken, “What?”

“He’s not what you really want though,” she says without beating around any bushes. Trust her to have noticed.

“No,” Bucky admits. “But I’m used to the world not giving me what I want by now. I’m making due, and often I feel like —”

“Like you’re already getting enough,” she says, and of course she understands. After all she too has a past that’s more of a burden than anything else. 

“Right. And we’re not going to talk about it,” Bucky says, stern.

She nods, because even if she has a tendency to meddle, she does know when it’s time to leave something alone too. Bucky knows they won’t talk about it, she won’t bring up or even hint to what he really would like to have if the world was perfect. It’s not though, and as is, Bucky is content to never hear another word about it.

“It helps, doesn’t it,” she then says. “The physical closeness.”

“It does. And when it doesn’t mean anything, it can be just that. Simple. That works for me.”

Bucky ends up going with the guy, to his place since it’s closer than Bucky’s. He figured it out fairly soon after he walked away after leaving Steve at the shores of Potomac that sex and physical closeness in general helped him feel more like a human. Still do. 

Later, when he’s walking home at the early hours of morning through the sleeping city, he almost feels at peace. It’s not contentment, but it’s close enough that it almost doesn’t matter.

***

Bucky’s sitting cross legged on the floor of the armory with the new rifle resting on his knees. He’s spent the day getting used to it, taking it apart and putting it back together, loading and ejecting and reloading, checking the scope, the rest and how it fits against his shoulder. It’s lighter than most rifles of its size, made with some kind of new alloy that can withstand the forces of firing. He’ll take it to the range after the weekend.

He hears Steve before seeing him, the cadence of steps familiar even if he can tell Steve has on leather soled dress shoes rather than the boots he usually wears. He comes in and Bucky blinks, thinking that he looks like another iteration of Captain America, the current equivalent of how he used to look in his dress uniform in London between the missions. Now Steve has on a dark blue suit and a crisp white shirt with a silk tie in muted colors, and it might be civilian clothes but Steve still carries the suit like a uniform.

Steve also has a pronounced frown between his eyebrows and tightness in his jaw, sure signs that he’s irritated. He’s been at a UN conference for the past few days, and Bucky knows it doesn’t even mean that things have gone badly, just that it’s not really an environment Steve enjoys. 

“How was it?” Bucky asks.

“Okay, I suppose. We got the big stuff locked down, and it’s as we expected for it to go. No surprises, so we can work with it. But it was still exhausting. T’Challa does pretty hilarious commentary though. You wouldn’t believe how fast he can text.”

“I would, actually. Are you looking to wind down for the weekend then?”

“I’ve got about a mountain of paperwork for tomorrow, but winding down is definitely in order, I was going to the gym,” Steve says.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is the armory. Gym’s a few floors down. And you’re not dressed for it either.”

“I was kind of hoping to convince you into sparring.”

“Well, I’ve been sitting here most of the day, I could use the exercise,” Bucky agrees and rises up to his feet to stove away the rifle in its case.

They go back to Steve’s apartment to change, since Bucky keeps enough of his clothes and other things there to be able to stay over if they’re on call.

“Bring your shield,” Bucky calls out to Steve, grabbing the training knives. He’s fairly sure it’s that kind of a night for Steve.

“Was planning to,” Steve replies.

The training room is empty, since it’s Friday evening and even superheroes have other things to do besides training, unless they’re antsy or friends ready to help with the unease.

They fall into a rhythm soon enough, attacking and defending, going pretty much all out at it. They spar with all of their team mates regularly since they all need mixing up in their training, but Bucky always likes it best with Steve. They are so evenly matched that neither one has to hold back or compensate, and it is great workout. Half an hour after the start the tightness is gone and Steve looks just focused.

“I’m not sure about your frustration coping methods,” Bucky calls between punches. “I hear that aggression just breeds aggression.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Steve says and dodges a punch, kicks Bucky on the knee and nearly gets him down. Nearly doesn’t count though.

“Nope, I’ve actually read psychology texts. I know what I’m talking about.” Bucky grins as he gets on his feet after his roll.

“I don’t actually care. Less talking, more punching.” 

An hour later they’re lying on the floor tired and loose in the way a good workout makes them. They’re not talking, just resting there, and it’s easy and companionable. Bucky’s head almost gets in the way of that, suggesting he should say something, finally ask Steve over or something, and he still has no words.

Turns out, Steve doesn’t have that problem.

“Hey, Buck, are you free on Sunday?” he asks, and Bucky nearly double takes, since it’s so unexpected after Steve stopped asking to help him with the apartment.

“Yeah, I’ve got no plans. What did you have in mind?”

“I heard about this place that apparently does pretty great brunch. So if you are free —”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Bucky says, before Steve even manages to finish. 

He gets one of those grins that always feel like they light Steve up right from the inside in reply.

***

On Sunday Steve picks Bucky up, and it’s only when he’s opening the door that Bucky realizes it’s the first time Steve’s been at his apartment. After all, he never invited Steve to come. There’s a moment when he’s sure things are about to be awkward, except Steve smiles at him and asks if he’s ready to go. They leave, and Bucky thinks Steve didn’t even look at his place. He’s not sure how he feels about it.

They walk since it’s a beautiful day, and Bucky notices that people seem to be paying more attention than usual. He’s gotten used to being able to move in the crowd as just one part of it, as nothing remarkable. It’s one of the reasons he knows moving to Brooklyn was a right choice. People keep noticing Steve though, doing double takes, and Bucky is conscious of how Steve isn’t really comfortable with it. Not that he blames the passersby, he himself knows how hard it is to not look at Steve.

They come to a diner on one of the more quiet streets. It’s smallish but neat and tidy, lit bright and with mismatching furniture. They get a table by the window, and it’s small enough that their knees knock together under it. Bucky feels his lips curve into a smile, and Steve half laughs back at him. He’s not even sure why it’s funny, it just it.

They order enough food for a small army, and they talk about things that have nothing to do with Avenging, not even training. They do talk about their friends, but only about personal things, not superhero things. Bucky doesn’t remember the last time they did this, spent this long not talking about work.

It’s a bit sad, considering.

The frown that lives nearly perpetually between Steve’s brows these days is nowhere to be found, and Bucky finds himself laughing, really and truly. He doesn’t do it that often anymore. It’s as perfect a morning as the world is inclined to give Bucky these days.

An old lady has been drinking coffee in the corner, and Bucky has been aware of her the way he is aware of everyone these days, but she still manages to surprise him as she passes their table on the way out.

“Have a lovely day, young men,” she says. “It’s always good to see happy couples.”

It takes Bucky a moment to figure out she meant it exactly as it sounded like, and he’s too busy thinking to reply. Steve on the other hand has no such qualms.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says as she continues on, and Bucky can tell he’s laughing under his breath.

Looking at Steve, Bucky sees his eyes dancing with mirth, and he’s leaning back in his chair easy and relaxed. And why wouldn’t he be, even if the woman drew a wrong conclusion, after all it’s not a cause for fear anymore. Bucky’s not quite so relaxed, with the thought sprung upon him so suddenly, since it cuts a bit too close. Clearly not for Steve, but then he knows that.

He has known from the start, ever since he scraped himself together again and started to figure out what Steve means to him. He knows there’s nowhere it can go, but it’s okay. Being friends is plenty. More than enough, really.

As they’re walking away, Steve says, “That was fun. It was good to do something else than hanging at the Tower or at work.”

“Yeah. It was. And you should probably try to get away more often, or you forget how to do anything other than work.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Steve asks, still easy and relaxed.

“Maybe we should do this again? I mean not here necessarily, maybe try different places? Every other Sunday?” Bucky suggests a deliberately loose time frame, just so Steve has time to do other things too.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

They part ways, Steve on train towards the Tower, Bucky to the garage to work on the Harley. It’s only when he’s up to elbows in grease that it occurs to him to wonder why the woman had thought of them as a couple in the first place.

***

Life settles down and Bucky with it, in a way he doesn’t remember happening since before the war. He knows that considering his work and his past, not a lot of people would consider his life as settling down, but he’s learned that one can get used to anything. Besides, it’s not like his life before the war was calm and easy either, with Steve getting so sick he almost died every few years and sick enough for it to be extremely worrisome in between those. Not to mention all the back alley fights.

So his life is not usual in general terms, but he settles into a routine. He works, he trains, he sees his friends, goes out with them, works on the Harley, takes walks in Brooklyn and reads at coffee shops or in the park. He has regular brunches with Steve, and they are always the best part of his week.

Sometimes he wonders what Steve does on the weekends they don’t meet and he hopes it’s something other than work. He can’t deny that there is a worry gnawing at the back of his head.

Steve always comes to pick him up from home, but never comes back up with him after. Bucky starts to procrastinate in the mornings, so that Steve will have to wait longer, and sometimes Steve wanders into the living room or kitchen. He never says anything about Bucky’s apartment, or shows any interest in spending time there.

It’s a maddening circle, Bucky thinks, and ironic, since he knows it’s there but can’t break it. He doesn’t know how to ask Steve to come over, to stay with him there instead of out at the town or even Steve’s place at the Tower. And Steve won’t ask either.

***

There are missions sometimes, and every time a part of Bucky, the part not engulfed by the shadow from inside him, just waits for Steve to look at him and see something he doesn’t want, to see something he’s repulsed by.

It never happens. Steve’s eyes are always the same, calm and trusting.

***

Bucky’s memories are still jumbled even if he has a fairly good sense of his history and the people that played big roles in it. Some things are still a mystery. Like whether he used to feel this kind of a pull towards Steve before, or if it’s something born now, here in the new century. He doesn’t know, and it doesn’t matter. It won’t change the outcome.

Still, he can’t get rid of it either; not that he really tries. It is something that grew when he was piecing himself back together, the process that has lasted for years and is still ongoing. It’s something that is truly his, nothing that was put in his head or even warped by what happened to him. It’s completely separate, and he doesn’t have too many of those things.

There are more of them now that he’s building a life outside of the fighting for himself, but there are still not so many that he would want to part with a single one.

So he doesn’t deny it, and doesn’t act on it. Sometimes the pull is almost tangible; there are moments when he sees Steve deep in concentration, or loose after sparring, or the coiled strength of his body ready for action. It’s there, and Bucky lets it tear into him. It doesn’t even hurt, not in the way that would matter.

After the decades they’ve been through Bucky is just glad to still be Steve’s friend, to still be able to have his back and to spend time with him in the city. It’s enough, he takes what he gets and he finds everything else heed needs from other places.

He still craves physical intimacy, but it’s easy to sort out. There are men and women, all for only one night even if some of them ask afterward to meet again. He always declines, since he doesn’t want anyone like that. Not while Steve is the only one he really has eyes for. And even if that would stop, there would still be that part where he doesn’t really trust anyone else to let them that close.

All his one night stands look nothing like Steve, and it’s deliberate. This way he can look at them and not think about anything else. He can fuck and get fucked and all it means is release.

He settles in, and he thinks his life is satisfactory. It’s not perfect, but he never expected life to be perfect anyway. He takes what he can get, and doesn’t let himself think about anything more.

***

Bucky’s at the garage working on the Harley when there’s a surprised exclamation, and then Wanda is there, grinning at him. She ends up sitting on a crate near him, watching him work and talking all the way.

“Are you going to take a road trip with that when it’s done?” she asks.

“It’s not for me.”

“Ah. Giving it to him for Christmas?”

“Or birthday. Or some other Christmas or birthday, depending on how long it takes me to get the parts I need and how much time I end up having to work on this. If we have no major crises I might be done by December.”

Wanda is quiet for a moment, and then changes the subject. “I worry about him, sometimes. He works too much.”

“You and me both, kiddo, but Steve always was stubborn. He’s decided to do this, so there’s nothing we can do to stop him. He might need to pass out before he listens to people telling him to rest, but that’s how it’s always been.” Bucky pauses, and then adds, “Doesn’t mean we have to like it.”

***

Bucky isn’t exactly hiding things from Steve. It’s just that he doesn’t talk about them either, and since Steve is so busy and apparently the rest of their team chooses to not talk, maybe since they’re still intent on giving Bucky space even when he can handle things just fine, Steve ends up not knowing about a lot of things, for example his casual relationships.

Bucky isn’t embarrassed or even afraid of Steve judging him. It’s just that there really is no way of just offhand mentioning having had sex with someone to a person he’d like to be doing it instead.

He really should have known it wasn’t going to last, and he did know really, he just hasn’t done anything about it. Now it’s time for him to face it, shine a light on another piece of himself that isn’t like Bucky from the 40s, not like the man Steve knew. And even when Steve has learned to live with and accept things about him that are bigger and more significant, Bucky still can’t stop thinking that this might be the last straw.

He hates it, hates that he can’t stop thinking that way, because it tastes like doubting Steve, and that’s something he doesn’t want to do. It feels wrong to his very bones. It’s just that these days there are several things that feel wrong to his very bones, things that are still a part of him.

It’s the morning after a mission. Bucky’s drinking the rest of his coffee and the man he brought home the night before is pulling his jacket on. Bucky had a good time, got what he needed in that he feels now settled back home instead of being at the edge that lingers after fighting. What he wants now is for the man to leave. Only he can tell exactly what the man is about to say, and he shifts his stance into a more closed one, discouraging. The guy doesn’t take the hint.

“Last night was pretty great, I could leave you my number so we can do it again.”

“Like I said yesterday, strictly one time.”

Bucky’s at the window, and from the corner of his eye he catches a familiar figure crossing the street. Steve is earlier than usual, just about to enter the building. Bucky just looks at the guy when it seems like he wants to argue, and it finally sinks and he leaves. Bucky could go and finish getting dressed since they’re going out with Steve in a moment, but instead he stands by the door, listening.

Usually Steve climbs the stairs two steps at a time, as close to running up as he can without actually running. This time Bucky can almost feel the hesitation in Steve, and it just increases as he passes the man going down. Bucky knows well Steve has a specific enough hearing that he must have detected it was indeed Bucky’s door that was opened. Steve’s steps keep slowing down the closer he gets to Bucky’s door, and the suspense would be almost unbearable if he wasn’t so used to just waiting. 

Finally Steve runs up the last flight of stairs and rings the bell. He meets Bucky’s eyes easily with a smile and questions about the previous night and Nat and Sam. Once again proving Bucky can trust all of himself with Steve. It’ll all work out. It’s not perfect but it’s okay.

***

A Sunday few weeks later it’s not one of those when he and Steve are supposed to meet, and Bucky rises up early and has breakfast at a diner near his apartment, reading while eating. After he walks around Brooklyn, not going anywhere, just getting lost in the city, relishing the feeling of anonymity that the crowd provides.

He’s walking through Prospect Park, thinking he should find lunch when he stops clean on his tracks. Steve is sitting on the lawn, leaning on a tree. He has his leather jacket on the ground near him, since it’s unusually warm for the season, and a sketchbook balanced on a knee. He looks like he’s perfectly at peace.

Bucky is suddenly almost weak at knees. He has been worried about Steve, the way he’s been immersing himself in the work. Bucky knows all too well that one can get lost in it, and he’s been thinking Steve is giving away too much of himself. Only there isn’t much he could do, he knows Steve well enough that he knows protesting would be futile.

Now he has Steve there in front of him relaxed and looking content, not working, not having been dragged out by someone else, and the relief is almost shocking.  _ You’re okay, _ he thinks. He wants to go to Steve, and another part of him wants to just leave Steve be, in peace. It’s the part that’s always uncertain, doubting, and Bucky is starting to consciously ignore it as much as he can. The doubts might stick around, but he doesn’t have to obey them.

Besides, Steve could probably eat too.

He gets sandwiches for both of them at a deli, and then goes to Steve. They eat and talk, and then Steve continues drawing and Bucky gets his book out again. It’s a good way to spend a Sunday.

Bucky finds it hard to concentrate on his reading, and rather is looking at Steve’s drawing. It’s nothing unusual for him to be watching, both before the war and now he’s seen enough of what Steve draws to know his usual subjects. He knows that these days Steve mostly draws from memory; Brooklyn as it was, his mother, Peggy Carter, the commandos. Sometimes even Bucky, although not so much now that they’re regularly spending time together.

Now Steve is drawing the park, and not from memory, but as it is now. Just as he sees it, not from the past. Maybe Steve is finally letting himself live in the world he got flung into after the war. Bucky hopes so.

***

The moment Bucky first saw Steve and Peggy Carter together he knew there was something special between them. And he knew it wasn’t just attraction, even when she certainly was a knock-out, and besides that clearly only had eyes for Steve. What struck him was how Steve seemed to light up from the inside out when he was in her presence. There was a connection between them, that much was clear.

And as much as Bucky still hates to admit it to himself, he felt conflicted about it. 

It felt like Steve was drifting farther and farther away from Bucky. It started while they were apart, and by the time they met again in Austria it felt like there was no stopping it. Not only did he have to make sense of Steve being tall and strong, as he always had deserved to be, there was this other person in Steve’s life, one claiming her share of it.

There never really had been anyone like that before, and Bucky hated it. And he also hated himself for feeling like that.

He still doesn’t know why exactly he made such blatant offer to Carter that night in the bar when she came in wearing that red dress. The purpose of it all, the dress, the discussion, was clear to Bucky, and he wanted to disrupt it. He tried to tell himself it was to make sure she was worth it, worth Steve, to see if she would take the bait. 

Truth is, he knew from the start it was wrong to meddle, that it wasn’t something a good friend would do.

Truth is, he hoped she would prove unworthy of Steve.

After, he looked himself in a mirror, even if seeing himself made him flinch, as if everything that had happened in Zola’s lab had been etched on his face. He looked himself in a mirror and called himself every name he could think of, bastard and coward and unworthy of Steve. 

He had always wanted Steve to be happy, and when there was his chance to have everything, Bucky couldn’t be happy about it.

He remembers all of this, and yet he can’t figure out whether he back then loved Steve in a different way from a friend or a brother. Maybe this at least is something that is simpler here and now. It would be fair, considering most things aren’t simple for him anymore.

Now he knows exactly how he loves Steve, and even if he’s never going to act on it, it doesn’t eat him from inside. It is what it is, it’s there and it’s his, and he doesn’t need Steve to reciprocate. All he wants for Steve is for him to be happy.

After the first surprise, Bucky did get better at it, better at being happy for Steve. And he truly was, it wasn’t just an act. He could see the light inside Steve, and it made him feel almost content, as much as he could there in the war with the fire that he didn’t understand burning inside his veins.

And now, here in the future that Steve seems to have decided to live in instead of just surviving in again, Bucky wants to see it again, wants to see Steve light up from the inside. It makes sense he thinks, that apparently Steve has a kind of switch inside him, off and on. Carter turned it on decades earlier, and Bucky hopes there will be someone else to do it again.

 

* * *

 

Bucky wakes up slowly into the morning. Even through his eyelids he can tell from the amount of light coming through the blinds that the sun is up, but just barely. There is a warm presence next to him, skin against his skin, a hand stroking lazy circles over his stomach, a ghost of breath touching his cheek. A sense of someone watching him, and all of that doesn’t make him vary or tense, but content.

He opens his eyes to see Steve next to him, reclining on his side, resting his head on one hand, just watching Bucky. Steve’s eyes are clear, so he’s probably been awake for a while already, maybe just resting there looking at him. No one else in the world could do it and not wake him up. 

As it does these days since Bucky doesn’t bother to check himself anymore, his gaze falls on Steve’s lips that curve slightly into a smile, Steve clearly seeing what he’s looking at. It’s not a thought anymore but an instinct that makes him reach for Steve, intending to pull him down to kiss him, but Steve pushes him back down against the pillow, and then pushes the sheet covering them down.

There’s an intensity in Steve’s gaze that draws Bucky’s breath away every time he sees it. There’s the kind of heat that he wanted for so long but never could imagine. Now it’s all directed at him. For a moment he can’t do anything but look at Steve, everything else disappears, and his hips jolt when Steve takes his already mostly hard cock in slick hand. Bucky has no idea when Steve managed to get the lube.

Steve puts his other hand on Bucky’s hip, keeping him down and begins to slowly stroke him, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s. For a moment Bucky is mesmerized, he can’t move. Then he reaches for Steve, needing to touch as he is touched. Steve grasps his hand with the one that was holding his hip, never breaking the rhythm of his strokes, threads their fingers together and pushes Bucky’s hand down against the mattress.

Bucky surrenders then, lets Steve do whatever he wants. It’s not a hardship after all.

And what Steve wants is to give him an agonizingly slow handjob. He keeps his grasp on Bucky’s hand, the other working Bucky’s cock at a steady pace, gripping just right. Soon Bucky is clutching the sheets with his free hand and Steve’s hand with the other, writhing under the two points of contact. He’s gasping and moaning and cursing, calling Steve’s name and Steve just keeps to it, looking into his eyes almost without blinking.

Bucky keeps his own eyes open too, because he doesn’t want to lose a second of this.

It’s such a simple thing; hand in hand, Steve’s other hand on his cock, speeding up but not as much as Bucky would want to, delaying his release. Bucky wouldn’t have believed this kind of intensity if someone had told him, that such a simple touch could shatter him so thoroughly. And yet, here they are.

He finally comes with Steve’s name on his lips, his orgasm feeling like it pulls from every last inch of his body and spills over Steve’s hand, leaving him gasping and panting. He feels boneless in a way he can’t ever remember happening, and Steve slides back down next to him and gathers him in his arms, warm and solid.

Bucky makes a move to touch Steve, to reciprocate, but Steve just pulls him closer.

“Later,” Steve whispers in Bucky’s ear, and they stay like that, every inch of their bodies touching until Bucky dozes off again.

He wakes up again only twenty minutes later. Steve is still laying there half under him, hands resting on Bucky’s back. He’s fairly sure Steve didn’t sleep in the interval. Steve doesn’t seem to realize immediately that he’s awake, so Bucky lies there, relaxed, just enjoying the fact he can. Steve’s breathing is steady under his ear, his hands on Bucky’s skin. It’s unusual for Steve to be so still. He tends to fidget when there’s nothing to do, and Bucky is already used to Steve drawing patterns on his skin while they lay in bed. He doesn’t mind it, the opposite really, and he actually finds it soothing.

Steve’s eyes are half closed, drowsy, as if he’s on the way to sleep himself when Bucky props himself up on his elbow. They clear when Bucky bends closer to carefully brush his lips against Steve’s, a whisper light touch. 

“It’s later,” Bucky says, and Steve’s lips curve into a smile that Bucky finally has to kiss properly.

Because payback is fair game, Bucky makes Steve stay on his back, pushes his shoulders to indicate what he wants. Steve easily accepts it, stays pliant in a way that delights Bucky every time, because it’s nothing like he’s seen from Steve otherwise. In general Steve is all action and determination, or concentrated focus, and that too happens in bed, the early morning being the most recent testament to that. This, however, is something completely different. It thrills Bucky like nothing else when Steve just lets his guard down, lets Bucky touch him and trusts him.

It’s fairly humbling too, even if Bucky’s definitely not going to voice that opinion to Steve. He probably wouldn’t quite get it, because he doesn’t see himself the way Bucky does.

That morning Bucky fucks Steve slow and long, never in a hurry, able to pace himself even more since he came once already. Steve lies under him, fingers digging into Bucky’s skin hard enough to probably bruise, and Bucky doesn’t know a better way to start the day.

It’s been days rather than weeks since they did this for the first time, and Bucky is still learning Steve’s body and its responses. He’s still finding out the sensitive spots, the ones that are ticklish and the ones that make Steve groan. He’s still learning to interpret the ways Steve’s breathing changes and what each little hitch means. There are probably hundreds of little things he doesn’t yet know, but he will find out.

He hikes Steve’s leg up, arm behind the knee, and Steve just lets him, shifting his hips for the new position. He gasps the the next time Bucky fucks into him, louder than he yet has, and Bucky picks up the pace a little, pulling the sounds from Steve.

For all that he’s on the way to becoming completely undone, Steve keeps looking at Bucky, and it’s as if there is a light shining inside him. He’s nearly glowing with happiness, Bucky knows that’s exactly what it is, and it’s almost too hard to bear, hard to have it all directed squarely on him. 

Bucky bends down and rests his head on Steve’s collarbone, keeps the steady movement of his hips even if he too is coming undone right along with Steve. Steve buries his fingers in Bucky’s hair, gentle unlike he was earlier grasping his hip. 

In the end, Steve comes without either of them touching his cock, and Bucky follows soon after.

 

* * *

 

There is a rainy morning, and Steve is drawing classical statues at the Met. Seeing him, Bucky lets himself imagine what their life could have been if there hadn’t been a war, if things had been a little easier. Maybe Steve could have continued his art studies and maybe he would have ended up making life out of that. Maybe Bucky would have worked as a mechanic, maybe as something else. He doesn’t know. 

What he does know that despite the hardships, despite the pain and horror they’ve gone through, despite the fact that they’re both still struggling, Bucky wouldn’t change this life for the one he conjures up. It wouldn’t really be happier, he thinks. In a way they’d be less complicated with Steve, and in other ways more so. They wouldn’t be able to be together in the imagined life either, and they’d probably only have a few more years from the point they were plunged into the war.

Bucky can remember all too well how Steve’s heart used to labor, how there were days when he was sure it was going to stop at any moment. 

So he doesn’t want that life, and instead sits down next to Steve here and now, where Steve is taller than him and he has an arm made of metal, and they both know all too many ways to kill someone.

***

After the morning at the Met things are suddenly easier. It’s probably a combination of several things. Maybe they’ve reached some kind of a critical point, know the new versions of each other well enough, have built enough between each other again that it can be easy. Maybe it’s that the both of them separately have clawed together enough of a life outside the Avengers that they’re not constantly on the edge. 

Whatever it is, Bucky is grateful.

One Saturday he’s on Manhattan and decides to pop in at the Tower. Friday tells him Steve is at home, so Bucky goes up to his apartment straight away. He finds Steve in one of the spare rooms, stripping out the carpet.

“Okay, what’s going on? Didn’t think decorating was your kind of thing.”

“Generally it isn’t,” Steve says. “This’ll be a studio, and carpet’s not that great with paint. Want to give me a hand?”

“Sure,” Bucky says, and takes off his jacket.

They take the carpet out, and then paint the walls white to maximize the amount of light. The room is in the corner of the Tower with big windows toward south and west with a storage room just next to it. It’s probably an ideal space.

“Why didn’t you have anything in here before, aren’t corner rooms supposed to be the hot commodity?” Bucky asks, curious. He has an idea of why, but he wants to hear what Steve thinks.

Steve’s smile is mostly self-deprecating. “Guess I knew the only thing I wanted to do with this was a studio, but I wasn’t ready to have one.”

“Right,” Bucky acknowledges, understanding, and then changes the topic since Steve has never been too comfortable talking about his issues. “What are you thinking for the floor?”

“They’ll come on Monday to put wooden floors.”

“Sealed after it’s laid down? That should be able to handle the paint spatter.”

“So they say. You’re the one of us that knows more about it. I could have gone with tile, but it’s so hard it’s uncomfortable to stand on for long periods, or vinyl maybe, but Tony said that wouldn’t go with the rest of the decor, so. Wooden floors it is.”

“What does Stark think of you demolishing the decor he had his people set up?”

“Honestly I think it’s kind of a natural thing for him. After all he reconfigures his workspace all the time, so. He got me a drawing tablet too, probably at least half to mess with me.”

Bucky grins. “And you’re definitely going to learn how to use it and draw him something with it,” he says.

“Hey, don’t spoil the surprise,” Steve mock grumbles.

“Well, my lips are sealed, and we know Friday knows all about discretion.”

***

On the Sunday next weekend Bucky is up long before the dawn. He had a nightmare that he can’t remember after waking, but it still lingers and he knows it would be futile to try to go back to sleep. Nightmares happen to him still fairly often, probably always will, he thinks, but thankfully they’re not always this bad, leaving him unsettled and twitchy.

He drinks a whole pot of coffee and sits at the window staring out. It slowly gets lighter and people start to appear on the street, but he doesn’t really feel calmer at all. It is only when he catches a sight of Steve he remembers it’s one of their Sundays.

Steve frowns at the sight of him as he steps inside.

“Sorry, I should have called,” Bucky says. “I’m not really good for going out today.”

“Never mind that, are you okay? What happened?”

Bucky wants to smooth out the frown between Steve’s eyebrows. “Nothing, just a nightmare. Those are sometimes, well. You know.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, and he does know, both from having witnessed Bucky’s nightmares, as well as having his own. “Well, how about we don’t go out then? We can call for pizza and watch something on Netflix instead.”

“Pizza for breakfast?” Bucky almost smiles, despite still feeling like he’s been thoroughly beaten. 

“Hey, you have no room for complaining after you took us to that frozen yogurt place.”

“You liked it,” Bucky shoots back, and already feels his shoulders relaxing with the familiar banter.

“True, but it’s not really breakfast. So. What do you want on your pizza?”

They order pizzas, and after they come they settle on the couch. Bucky pulls up Netflix but can’t decide what he wants to watch. Steve takes the remote, and finds something called Brooklyn Nine-Nine. 

“I hear this is supposed to be funny, but I haven’t had time to check it out yet.”

“When do you ever? But go ahead, I haven’t seen it either.”

They settle in, sitting close enough to each other that their shoulders brush even though Bucky’s couch is big enough for five. By the end of the first episode Bucky is laughing, and Steve whoops with delight when Amy trips the bad guy with her baton.

“I bet she’s going to be your favorite, you feel kinship with her due to all the paperwork you both like to do.”

Steve elbows him, and they watch the next episode. By late afternoon Bucky feels better, the shadow of the nightmare gone.

It’s the first time Steve stayed instead of just picking him up.

***

He gets the Harley done by Christmas and gives it to Steve, who smiles bright enough to light up the whole room and complains it’s an unfair gift since he can’t properly try it out until the spring.

Privately Bucky thinks Steve’s gift for him is at least as unfair, in a different way. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised Steve ended up giving him a painting, and Steve was right, it fits perfectly on the bare brick wall in his living room. He often finds himself sitting there in front of it just staring at it like he did the first time in Steve’s studio, aware that Steve was about to vibrate out of his skin and yet unable to say anything about it.

The painting was overwhelming then and it still is now, if he stops to really look at it. It’s abstract enough that for anyone else it probably wouldn’t mean anything, even if they should be able to tell there is a story in the painting. For Bucky, though, it’s crystal clear what Steve wanted to portray. He doesn’t knows how Steve managed the colors so perfectly that despite the abstract shapes it’s clear it is the story of his life, or maybe even their life. From Brooklyn to war to ice to DC and Siberia and then back to Brooklyn. It’s all there.

Bucky suspects that a lot of people would be surprised that he chooses to hang such a reminder on his wall in the apartment that otherwise says nothing about his past, nothing about the Avengers. He’s not sure he would be able to explain it either in a way that someone else would understand, and yet Steve had just known. He’d painted it all.

It’s his life hung up on the wall, and it is a reminder, but not of what happened to him. It is a reminder that despite it all, he still made it back. It’s why he finds it soothing to look at during the sleepless hours of difficult nights.

***

Weeks pass and he settles again into life, and this time it’s just a bit closer to what he usually doesn’t let himself want. Steve works less since the procedures for the Avengers’ operations have been finalized which means a significant time sink has been cut out. It means he paints and reads and goes out with their friends.

It means Steve regularly comes to stay at Bucky’s for a few hours. They catch up with Brooklyn Nine-Nine, they watch sports or just talk. Sometimes not even that; sometimes Bucky reads or tinkers on something and Steve sketches on one end of the couch. It’s being in the same space with Steve that makes Bucky content, and he starts thinking it’s the same for Steve too. It’s familiar, in that they used to live in each other’s pockets before the war, but it’s new too.

They’ve both changed so much over the decades that every familiar thing is new. It doesn’t mean it’s all bad though.

Bucky does realize that maybe the way he’s resettling is a little bit dangerous, in that he’s moving toward the edge of the safe space he’s carved for himself. The equilibrium where he can balance being Steve’s friend and fulfilling his other physical needs with strangers is tipping.

He can see it happening, and he does nothing to stop it.

Since Steve’s painting found its home on his wall, he hasn’t brought any of the one night stands back with him. And he in general spends nights less and less often with strangers. Part of it is that he’s getting better at separating his fighter persona from the rest, getting better at moving from one to the other without needing a crutch to help him. And the rest is that it’s starting to be less and less satisfying, and he knows exactly why. 

After one mission when all of it just clings to him more than usual Steve seems to see it, and does what they used to do back during the war. It was easy then, seeing the other was having hard time, or more than usual anyway since all they ever had was hard times; coming to sit close and leaning on each other. It helped then, the physical presence. They haven’t really done so since they started working together again, outside of sometimes sleeping next to each other during the missions which feels like a whole separate thing. There has been a distance they both have kept up, but now Steve breaches through in a way that feels deliberate.

And it helps. Bucky ends up spending the way home his head resting on Steve’s shoulder, Steve’s arm loose around him, and it’s better; the shadow dissipates and leaves just himself, solid and whole. 

It would be so easy to turn his head, to brush his lips on Steve’s throat, but he doesn’t. 

Bucky stays in the Tower that night, sleeping in one of Steve’s guest rooms that permanently has his things in there, so that it probably can’t really be called a guest room. They go running in the morning cold, and it feels right just being close to Steve. It’s dangerous, he knows, and he does nothing to try to pull away.

Besides, Steve seems content, not like Bucky’s presence is keeping him from something. Bucky clings to that, even when a small voice inside him reminds him that the more time Steve spends with him, the less chances he has to finding someone new he’ll want to spend his life with. It’s been years since Carter, and Steve probably is ready. Still, Bucky does nothing to pull away.

He’s not sure what it makes him.

***

Despite how well you adjust and settle, there will always be something that can completely upend your life. Bucky knows this, has always known it. Usually those things have been something bad, turning his life toward worse. Maybe this unsettling, now that he’s comfortable in his life that is good but not perfect, is compensation for all those bad turns.

That spring day will always be etched in his memory, the moment when he looks up from his book to Steve sitting at the other end of the couch. The sun falls on Steve, making his hair glow and bringing out the sharp angles of his jawline. His sketchbook is fallen on his lap, pencil forgotten in his hand. It’s his eyes though that arrest Bucky, the single undeniable thing that they say.

Because the thing is, despite brainwashing and decades of separation, Bucky still knows Steve, knows him deep in his bones and there are moments when Steve might as well speak out his thoughts, because they are so clearly understandable for Bucky.

And now, what is on plain display on Steve’s face is the truth that if Bucky now dares, he will have everything he hasn’t let himself to want.

If only he dares.

Maybe it is appropriate then, that even in this the only thing he needs to do is follow Steve’s lead, to reach for the extended hand. This time it’s so much safer than all those decades ago, there’s no fraying support under him, no chasm opening below. There is just Steve, who has always been the most solid thing Bucky knows, even when he was young and so frail that a cold spell could have taken him away from them.

Only it never happened, Steve stayed, and maybe it wasn’t just a chance, maybe it was Steve’s sheer stubbornness, his inability to accept fate. The way he always pushed on, in face of every adversity, against every fear.

Bucky can see it now too, the way Steve extends his hand as if he is standing on a precipice, ready to jump and asking Bucky to come with him, overriding all his doubts. And now, same as ever, there’s only one thing Bucky can do. He reaches for Steve, and it’s not a chasm opening below them this time.

This time when they jump, they fly.

Every moment of it feels unreal, and even after Bucky has jumped into it with Steve, he keeps slowing down, keeps asking. And Steve’s answer every time is the same.

_ Yes. _

It is a yes for his lips on Steve’s, it is a yes for loving him despite their past and because of it. It is a yes for having Steve on his back under him, panting and flushed and beautiful, his eyes shining with a light Bucky finds hard to look at. 

His name on Steve’s lips, gasped and breathless, is all the affirmation Bucky will ever need.

***

The commute to work the next day is different from usual. It’s still very early, only the beginnings of morning rush, just the way Bucky likes it. The people are quiet and withdrawn, mostly alone on their way to work. Bucky sits in the corner where he has a good view of the whole compartment, his bag at his feet.

What’s new is Steve’s presence next to him, just a hint closer than friends usually sit.

Most days at this time Steve is either returning from a run or already done, getting ready for his day. This time the morning workout for both of them was a bit different.

At the Tower Steve goes to his floor to change and Bucky heads to the gym. He’s only just done with his warm up when the alarm sounds, signaling that they are assembled again for a mission. When he comes out of the elevator and into their briefing room, Steve is there, flicking through images on the screen, zooming in and out sometimes, clearly already constructing a plan. There are mountains and desert, and Bucky focuses on the mission, on finding the shadow of the Soldier inside him.

***

It takes the whole week, but they win. Hostiles are contained, a group of hostages rescued. It’s business as usual for Bucky and Steve, despite how everything feels like it has changed in between the last mission and this one. On the field everything is still the same, and in retrospect Bucky’s not sure why he ever thought it might be different.

Steve is stuck with the post-mission paperwork, and before Bucky would have been gone, on his way to Brooklyn, already figuring out how to shed the lingering effects of the fight. Now he knows exactly what he wants, and so he waits for Steve, sitting cross legged on the floor of the armory, cleaning and maintaining his rifles.

Natalia is more quiet than the rest of them, especially when she wants to be, but now she’s deliberately making noise before entering the room. The guns there are not loaded, but it’s not good to surprise Bucky, especially this soon after a mission, and she knows it. Bucky knows for a fact that she already stowed her gear earlier, so it doesn’t surprise him at all when she just sits down next to him.

She doesn’t say anything, even though the silence feels loaded. 

Bucky’s not in the mood for games though, so he asks, “What?”

“Are we talking about it now? Because I distinctly remember you saying we’re not.”

She’s definitely smiling underneath.

Bucky fixes a stare at her and repeats, “What?”

“Nothing, I’m just happy for you.”

Bucky’s not at all surprised she’s noticed, even if he knows he and Steve didn’t act any different from usual. 

“You’re just happy you don’t have to try and set him up with anyone anymore.”

“True, I was starting to run low on suitable people. I’ve never been so unsuccessful. But I guess I should have realized he was already spoken for.”

“You should tell Steve you didn’t see something about him, I think he’d get a kick from that.”

“Mm. I think I’ll hold onto that for a while. You don’t seem that surprised about it though.”

“Steve is a shit poor liar if he has to tell one, but he’s actually very good at hiding things. Mostly it’s because of the expectation, you never expect him to be hiding things. Even I forget it sometimes.”

“Maybe. And maybe because there was just so little reference. From the start he was so intense about you, and I saw the shape of it change, but thought is was just because you were getting better. But I guess it was more than that.” 

“Apparently so.”

“He didn’t talk about any of his past that much, you know? Not about you, not about Carter even when he visited her regularly. So it was really tricky to get a read on him. But when you appeared, it was clear you were the most important person to him, and it made sense he went so intensely at trying to get to you, since he was so lonely. And I should have thought about what it meant.”

“That’s something, you not digging into every last bit of information,” Bucky notes.

“I guess it was that I grew to trust him, he’s easy like that.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“Yeah, and because of that, I didn’t dig too much, took things at the face value, and accepted he thought of you as a friend.”

“Instead of him wanting —” 

“If that’s about to be something you guys were up to before this mission, I don’t want to hear it,” she interrupts, just as Bucky knew she would. He’s not about to tell her about details, and she knows it too. All of the interaction feels like a game, but it’s a familiar pattern that’s easy to fall into.

“What, I thought you were reconsidering on your policy of not finding out every bit about Steve’s life.”

“Fuck off, James,” she says, but the irritation has no heat at all.

“Aren’t you supposed to be finding Sam about now,” Bucky shoots back, and dodges her elbow.

***

It takes a couple of hours for Steve to be ready to leave. Bucky spends the whole time in the armory working on his guns, and it shouldn’t be relaxing, it usually isn’t, and yet he feels the edge fading away as they step into the elevator. 

They go to Steve’s since Bucky wants his hands on Steve, the sooner the better. Besides, the showers in the Tower are more spacious than Bucky’s.

As soon as the door closes behind them they reach for each other, and it surprises Bucky a little how it’s not frantic at all. As soon as he touches Steve, he almost feels like he melts, and the kiss in gentle, Steve cradling Bucky’s head and Bucky pulling Steve flush against him.

They kiss for a while, Bucky doesn’t bother to keep track on time, deep and thorough, slowly like Bucky never has. Not even with Steve, because before it was about finding out all the new things, everything that makes Steve tick. Now though, it’s already familiar in the best way, the way that makes him feel a thrill at the base of his spine. He knows Steve’s mouth, knows his reactions. Not all of them yet, but enough, and that is a heady feeling, that now he can.

A while later Steve pulls away a bit only to nose down along Bucky’s jaw and nuzzle his neck, coming to rest his head on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky brings his hand to Steve’s head and  lightly scratches his scalp. Steve pushes closer, clearly pleased.

“You need a shower, though,” Steve mumbles against Bucky’s neck, and Bucky twists his hand a bit in Steve’s hair.

“Jerk. And so do you.”

Steve pulls away, smiling. “Guess we’re going to have to take one then.”

Bucky lets himself be pulled into the bathroom. Truthfully Steve wouldn’t need to do so, he’d follow Steve anywhere right now. Granted, he’d follow Steve mostly anywhere any day of the week.

At first they concentrate on practical matters in the shower, washing away all the dust and grime they both accumulated while fighting. Bucky is a bit surprised by how much he enjoys Steve washing his hair, though. Of course he thought it would be pleasant beforehand, but having Steve’s deft fingers combing through his hair and massaging his scalp is at the same time exhilarating and relaxing in a way he’s never really experienced. 

While washing Bucky’s hair Steve hums under his breath, barely audible over the water. There’s no tune to it that Bucky recognizes, but then Steve never really had any kind of capability for singing. Steve probably thinks it’s all just as well, otherwise he would have ended up singing something for the USO tour, and as it is, Steve thinks the Star Spangled Man is bad enough.

When they’re clean and dry again Bucky pushes Steve onto bed, only to be dragged down after him. He lands mostly on Steve and they both probably get a few more bruises in the process, but neither of them cares, since they are kissing again as soon as they’re lying down.

Now the kissing is more intense, hungry and purposeful. Now it’s definitely leading them somewhere instead of being all about the kissing. Steve’s fingers dig into Bucky’s hip leaving bruises and Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

So far Bucky’s preferred his right hand when touching Steve, even if he doesn’t completely keep the left idle. And maybe it’s another moment of pushing, another moment of seeing what Steve will do, when he now pushes himself up next to Steve and reaches for his cock with his left hand. 

Steve’s hips jolt when Bucky grasps him, and for all the right reasons. It’s not surprise, or revulsion or even cold. At the first stroke Steve’s eyes roll back and he lets out a low groan, and it only gets better after that. Bucky feels his mouth fall open, mesmerized at the sight of Steve; a flush dabbling down his chest, muscles straining, lips red form kisses. 

“Steve,” Bucky says, surprised at how strained his voice is, “do you have —”

“In the nightstand,” Steve gasps, knowing what Bucky’s asking for. 

It’s out of both their reach, and Bucky pauses for a second to grab lube from the drawer. Steve flops down on the pillows, panting with his eyes closed, clearly not able to really move. Bucky quickly coats the fingers of his right hand and then resumes stroking Steve’s cock with his left. 

Steve is moaning almost constantly now, coming undone but not yet even near to coming. It’s a bit tricky coordinating, but Bucky works himself open, fast but careful. Steve’s eyes fly open when Bucky switches hands and coats his cock with slick. Steve is still coherent enough that his hands come to steady Bucky when he straddles Steve and sinks down, slowly bottoming out and groaning in time with Steve. Bucky just stays there for a second getting used to the stretch, looking at Steve under him, staring at him like he’s never seen anything like Bucky. 

It’s not an easy look to weather, and Bucky rolls his hips and watches Steve’s eyes fall closed. Steve’s fingers dig into his hips again, and Bucky sets a fast pace. He’s not aiming for it to last, because they’re both almost to the edge. Steve catches on too, his fingers wrapping around Bucky’s cock and stroking it fast and hard, just what Bucky needs now.

Bucky comes first, clenching around Steve and that sends Steve over edge. Bucky lets himself fall forward, resting fully on Steve, breathing into his neck, tasting sweat and skin and the bathing gel. A few minutes later Steve rolls Bucky onto the bed, gets up and comes back with a towel to clean Bucky up before curling around him.

They’re both about to fall asleep, exhausted by the week of fighting, loose after sex. Bucky knows they’ll probably need to get up again in a few hours to eat, but he thinks a nap until then is a great idea, and maybe after dinner they can do this all over again, and do it slower.

There are days that stretch ahead of him, promising him all the time he needs to learn every fraction of an inch of Steve’s skin, every sound and reaction he has stored inside him.

 

* * *

 

It’s late morning when they head out. The spring sun is bright in their eyes and a gentle breeze flits stray hairs around Bucky’s head. They walk through the park and get stopped by a gaggle of curious children that want autographs from both of them. Steve laughs at Bucky’s surprise, and talks to all of them, patient and smiling. Bucky knows well Steve doesn’t like being recognized too much, but children are an exception.

After ten minutes they continue on their way, Bucky leading. It’s their traditional Sunday brunch, and it’s Bucky’s turn to pick a place. He’s fairly sure Steve is going to tease him about the choice, but it’s the first time  _ after,  _ and there is only one place that feels right.

Steve gets a smile on his face when they’re about a block away, clearly knowing where they’re going. He pulls Bucky close with a hand behind his neck for quick moment, resting his forehead against Bucky’s temple, nosing his cheek. Bucky is kind of happy he doesn’t blush, because if he did, he probably would now. It’s a lot more closer show of affection than they’ve yet done in public, and Bucky wants to grin for the rest of the day at it. 

He’s not going to, nor will he blush, because Steve wouldn’t let him hear the end of it.

Bucky pulls open the door to the little diner they had their first Sunday brunch in to let Steve in ahead of him. They sit at the same table, again order pretty much everything on the menu and don’t differentiate which plate belongs to whom. Bucky’s not even surprised that the same old lady is at the corner table having coffee. She winks at him when she passes them, and Steve is again laughing under his breath.

Bucky traps one of Steve’s feet between his, and wonders how he never realized how Steve lights up from the inside when he’s with Bucky. Steve always has, there is memory after memory of it happening; on the streets of Brooklyn, in their shared apartment, in the base camp in Italy, on the side of a snowy mountain, in the warehouse in Berlin where Bucky finally admitted he knew Steve. Maybe it was always so familiar that Bucky couldn’t see it. He only saw when it was directed at someone else, and after he came back to himself it was what he wanted for Steve again. Turns out it was easier to achieve than he imagined.

It’s been only days and not even weeks from the realization, but he knows already he’ll never stop being in awe with the reality. He knows it, because his love for Steve is still fresh even when it has lasted for nine decades and change.

Things are still not perfect, because that’s their life. There’s still the struggle and trauma and the shadow of past, but it’s okay. Bucky never expected to have a perfect life, but what he has is enough, it’s all he ever wanted. Now he dares to admit it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/).


End file.
